Rage Verse: Lady Phem
by Tigerdust
Summary: Disco is brainwashed by a singer at the nightclub he begins working at. Can Rage and Zephyr save a fellow super before he goes too far off the deep end? QaF US Rage!comics universe.


Disco looked up uncertainly at the unlit neon sign. It was four in the afternoon when the ad had gone up on craigslist and he had been out the door and dressed by 4:15. Waving to the people he knew on the street, most of which knew him by his costume or his emcee gig at the film house, waved back with a smile.

The place was pretty much closed down except for the bartender and bar back moving around the bar in the back of a large open room. The bar itself was stuffed between two round columns and, when the place was pretty well lit, you could see the rotating platforms with the mirrors behind them. Usually, the rotating dance floors were a dream to dance under, a fog of delusion and bodies and sweat, and usually glitter.

"Can I help you with something?"

Disco headed over to the bartender, who had dropped his rag on the bar while grabbing for a small white cutting board, getting ready to make lemon slices for his famous clear concoctions that left spinning heads and inhibitions at the door. Disco noted the man's tight formed yellow jacket and backwards John Deere baseball cap.

"There was this ad on craigslist, looking for a dishwasher and busboy?"

The bartender appraised Disco up and down. "You're not the usual type to apply for the job."

"And what is the usual type?" Disco chortled as the bartender started to cut lemons.

"Younger, at the very least."

"I'm not even 25."

The bartender sighed, not really caring but not really needing the interruption. "Fine. You got a resume I can see?"

Disco nodded, handing over a single sheet of neat white paper. "Would I be reporting to you or the manager of foh?"

The bartender moved his lips while reading. "You assuming you've got the job?"

Disco spread his arms out across the open area. "Doesn't look like you've got people banging down your door for it."

"You know Rage and Zephyr? Why are you applying for this job? They can't get you a cushy gig downtown?"

Disco scoffed in the back of his throat. "Believe me, I've had the offers. It doesn't suit my sleep patterns. I'm not a fan of the sunshine. You want that guy, find my bro in Gotham."

"Well, your resume certainly screams overqualified."

Disco gave a half-hearted smile. "Don't hold it against me."

The bartender rolled his eyes. "Okay, kid...er, Disco. Tell you what; against my better judgment I'm gonna give you a trial run this weekend, kay?"

Disco nodded politely. "Trust me, I'll be worth your trouble. And who might I report to?"

"Come find me at 8, promptly. Name's Mike. Bike outside is mine; scratch it and I tan your hide."

Disco shook the guy's hand. "Be careful who you proposition that to, Mike. Someone might take you up on the offer."

Disco was back at the bar at the appointed time and it wasn't very busy yet, just men milling about and still far too sober to be interesting. He was in a simple white tee and dark Levis 501s that he had bought to celebrate the new job. Disco would probably end up wearing his favorite thrift store duds the rest of the time. But first nights always had an impression to be made.

The night went as first nights always do. Its a blur of activity and instruction. And, anywhere but Gayopolis, it would have been. But Disco knew from the second he saw her onstage that she was entrancing. She was doing an old-school fan dance to updated techno. It was risque, the kind of thing that was mandated by most social life in Gayopolis but never would have passed in Coast City or even Gotham.

Their eyes didn't meet more than once and even from where he was, Disco could see her eyeliner was exceedingly thick. But he didn't care. Her eyes were aflame with life and he was intrigued and slightly smitten by her nearly "Elphaba-like" quality that he couldn't quite identify right away.

"Mike!"

The bartender, who was only wearing suspenders and a white trucker hat on his top half turned from the drink he was making. "Yeah, kid?"

"Who is she?"

Mike nodded over to the stage. "Just a hired dancer, her first gig too. Listen, you wanna meet her? I'm making this drink for her custom. Pass it off if you'd like."

"You're a champ, Mike."

The bartender winked at Disco. "That's what they all say kid."

Most of the men transitioned back to dancing without missing a beat when the lady that was onstage had finished. Disco wasn't missed on the main dance floor or on either of the crowded platforms, and it was no wonder if the startling silence behind the stage was any indication.

"Come in," she said behind her thick European accent after Disco knocked on the dressing room door.

There were refined silk wraps cascading down a screen behind which the lady dressed. She was wearing a dark blue corset and was currently removing make-up.

"Miss, a drink complements of the house."

She looked at Disco in the reflection of the mirror with lights all around it. "How darling. Just set it on the table, next to the caramels."

Disco set down the drink while continuing to watch the lady remove make-up. "You'll have to excuse me for staring, but..."

She turned, sitting to recline on her chair with one hand over her knee-high boots. The boots were of a fine dark material with sharp heels on the end, dangerous and sexy. Her fingernails were of about the same length of the heels and a garish shade of red. Disco had trouble arranging his thoughts.

The cabaret singer merely batted her eyelashes in an amused fashion. "Darling, you're not the first man to stare at God's finest creation."

Disco chuckled as he sat on the edge of the striped Italian sofa in the dressing room. "Rage would probably shoot you for a statement like that."

"It's not a horrible thing to have a high opinion of yourself."

Disco nodded. "Well, I don't know about that. You are very attractive, alluring even. You just have a very...gosh, how do I put this, a Rosalind Russell approach to things? Its very unconventional and beautiful."

The lady cabaret dancer rose and advanced. "My, aren't you a charming young man and associated with such fine company as Rage the illustrious hero."

"Don't hold it against me, we don't get along."

Disco tilted back a little as the cabaret dancer advanced, her heaving bosom leaning right into his line of view. "Yes, strong-willed men rarely do. May I make a suggestion though, Mr...."

"Disco."

"How very campy. I am Lady Phem. Welcome to my court."

The last thing Disco remembers after that is the feel of silk over his face and the intense sharp pain of being hit by a taser in his right side.

When the scene opens again, Zephyr is interviewing the police for clues while Rage is chatting up the photographer, just another normal day in Gayopolis. Three days have passed since Disco has been heard from and Zephyr was only privately worried to Ben. Ben, his main squeeze, was also worried. Disco hadn't missed emceeing a musical film fest since that rash case of mono had broken out and he'd barely missed it.

Zephyr was furrowing his brow and biting down on his lip. "You're being serious, aren't you?"

The policeman was shaking his head. "I couldn't make it up if I wanted. She flew in half naked, sat on top of the gilded bank cage and robbed everyone from a distance. We just found a tall enough policeman to climb and take prints."

"But nobody was harmed, right?"

The policeman nodded. "Luckily. The robber seemed bored of robbing the place, almost as if she was doing it against her will. The two tellers on duty said her voice had a monotonous tone to it, almost the exact opposite of a Margo Channing tone."

"Thanks. Much appreciated, Rog. We'll see you at the club for the policeman's social in February, right?"

Roger, the policeman grinned. "You being auctioned off again?"

Zephyr chuckled. "You feel ready to lose in another bidding war to Ben?"

Rage called over to his best friend and compatriot from where he was examining the rear end of the tall officer dusting for prints and such where Rage was examining his taut behind. "I think we've found something over here."

Zephyr arched his eyebrow in response. "Yeah? And does it pertain to the case?"

"You know me too well. But this time, its the actual robbery."

Zephyr's hands went to his hips as he looked up at the top of the gilded cage. "What'd you find?"

"Residue, Mr. Zephyr. We've got residue from some sort of alcoholic beverage, clear I would say."

Zephyr shook his head. "I don't get it. We've got more than our fair share of bars in this city."

Rage crossed his arms after pointing upwards. "Yeah, but this is one of Mike's signature drinks."

The sign was unlit and the entire main floor was abandoned, with a dark and haunted feel to it. Zephyr looked at Rage uneasily. "I don't like this. Think it could be a trap?"

"Gentleman, it most assuredly is."

The crash came from the front door, where a fire lit across so that Rage and Zephyr could not escape. Looking from the fire toward the stage that was being lit-up, she appeared in full femme fatale gear. Her hair was straight black, accentuating the bright lights on the stage. Her lips and nails were fierce candy red to contrast her pale white skin and those high heels had returned. Her fine silk jacket rested just above the ample bosom created by her corset and pearls.

"Who are you?"

The lady cabaret charmer who had become a femme fatale clucked his tongue in her mouth. "Dear Mr. Rage, do you know how impolite it is to point? My suggestion is that you put away that finger before someone teaches you a lesson."

Zephyr clenched her fists. "Lady, you're messing with the wrong heroes."

"Ah-ah. The name is Lady Phem." With that, Lady Phem snapped her fingers and from behind the back of the stage, a drag queen wrapped in blue boas stepped forward. His nails were long and sharp silver spikes, his eyes dead as though he were entranced. Lady Phem laughed as Rage and Zephyr put their hands out to halt the boa-ed henchman.

"Now, you don't want to do this pal."

"Simple-minded fools," Lady Phem hissed in Zephyr's direction, " The world is not about desire, its about change. Now, take your former friend here."

Rage growled toward the stage. "Friend? I've never seen this guy before in my life!"

Zephyr's eyes went wide behind his mask. "_Its Disco_. Or rather, it was Disco."

Rage shook his head. "It can't be. Disco never does drag, says he's not manly enough for it."

"Gentleman, you think in such small terms. Your friend is gone. Meet Siren, the electro-shocked former friend you so quaintly referred to as Disco. Now my protege."

"What have you done to him?" Zephyr hissed, advancing until Siren/Disco pounced with the sharp nails and sliced through the air, which whistled, as a warning.

"Simply created a feminine desire and filled his head with sweet delights and electricity until he bent to my will."

Zephyr growled, ducking a piercing silver nail. "You have no right to brainwash my friend."

Running toward the stage, Rage shrugged and looked at Siren. "Oh well. If its any consolation, you look better as a guy." With a well-placed punch, Rage connected to Disco's painted and yet still masculine face. It seems that the feminine enhancements were merely rubber cosmetic. Disco lay still across the floor. "And you already hate me, so I don't feel so bad about knocking you out cold."

Lady Phem hid her entrancing gaze behind long, winding red fingernails as Zephyr was prepared to advance and administer righteous queer justice. "You don't decide people's fates."

"He was already feminine, darling."

"He was changing, but I know he still loved being a mask! You can't make a decision like that!"

Lady Phem chuckled darkly. "It's my world. You're just a simple play thing, Mr. Zephyr. Now catch my gaze."

Rage growled across the bar as Zephyr began to feel his muscles freeze. "Look out, Zeph!"

Zephyr broke out with a shake of his head as a long, pointed heel was passing by his cheek. Gouging a rope to the side of the stage, Lady Phem watched with horror stricken eyes as Zephyr ducked and a swinging light installation pummeled her. She was thrown hard off the stage and flew, corset and all, until she hit Mike's beloved bar and lay behind, among the fallen glass with a slight oh popped on her surprised red lips.

Zephyr jumped from the stage and walked over to where the unconscious and dolled up Disco lay on the floor. He looked at his bewitched friend and then to Rage. "What do we do about Disco?"

Rage shrugged. "He's resilient, he can't be far under the surface of her get-up. Just don't tell him I called him resilient when he wakes up."

Zephyr smirked in return. "So, you actually don't mind Disco at all then?"

"If you tell him, I'll kill you."

Zephyr nodded, folding his arms while they waited for police back-up that they both knew was on the way. "And for half a second, I might actually believe that."


End file.
